


Rick Macy is Dead

by showmethebeefy



Category: In the Flesh (TV)
Genre: (a little), Alternate Universe - No Zombies, Body Horror, F/M, Gary is an asshole, Homophobic Language, Horror, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, References to Scooby Doo, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-28
Updated: 2015-07-18
Packaged: 2018-03-15 16:23:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3453926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/showmethebeefy/pseuds/showmethebeefy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which a group of friends, enemies, and family investigate the suspicious death of Rick Macy, only to discover he's still haunting the place he died, and the killer is looking to kill again...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. How to Deal with Grief: A Guide by Kieren Walker

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I wrote over half of this in one night, so I may have missed a few things in my editing that are still a mildly incoherent mess. Let me know if you see anything that is blatantly wrong or misspelled or weird?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kieren tries to deal with grief and fails. Jem tries to help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: Homophobic language and frank descriptions of hate crime like violence. Suicide mention.

“Did you hear?”

That’s what everyone was saying at school the next day.

“Did you hear about Rick Macy?”

The words nailed themselves onto Kieren Walker’s eardrums.

“I heard they found him all sliced up in that old house at the edge of town, with the word _fag_ carved into his chest.”

Everywhere he walked, there were whispers, conspiratorial, shifty eyed as they shared rumors into each other’s eager ears, speculating on the truth of the matter. It didn’t matter to Kieren. He was hollow-eyed, silent. People didn’t ask him what he thought. Maybe they were worried he would try to kill himself. Not that he would. Never again, he had decided. It hadn’t worked the first time, and that must have been a sign. No suicide. Then again, therapy had helped a lot, too. So there was that. Anyway, it didn’t matter.

“Rick Macy is dead.” That’s what he mumbled to himself that day, over and over, as if saying the words again and again would make them not true, would make the awful event disappear from history. His mind wasn’t capable of wrapping around the fact. Rick wasn’t the type to be dead. So, it couldn’t be true. That was that.

He couldn’t paint. That afternoon, once that hellish day had ended, he sat down in front of his palette and got out his paints. It was good to paint every day, he had been told. It was therapeutic. He put brush to paint, but the only colors he could seem to paint were red and peach, blood on skin, over and over and over until his palette bled drops of paint onto the floor and he was heaving dry sobs, gripping the palette, splattered with paint.

“Kier?”

He looked up. Jem was standing there in his bedroom door, looking at him sympathetically. He didn’t want that. _Sympathy_. He didn’t want people to feel sorry for him. It was just the way they’d looked at him when he got back from the hospital, like he had done something wrong, but no one wanted to tell him what, or why. He couldn’t tell Jem that, though.

“I’m fine,” he said, smiling weakly. Maybe that would be enough. Maybe she would go away, then. Leave him be to cry on his paints or some shit. That would be reasonable of her. Just let him be miserable, alone.

“Fine. Right.” Jem crossed the threshold of his room, and sinking inside of him he knew she wasn’t going to leave. “That’s why you’re crying all quiet-like so no one hears you and comes running.”

“Exactly that.” Kieren nodded vigorously. Jem shook her head, drawing ever closer to Kieren.

“I know you’re not okay because of Rick,” she said, placing a gentle hand between his shoulder blades. He flinched a little, but her hand remained a warm, comforting presence on his curled back.

“I just want to know who did it, okay, Jem?” His voice shook a little with anger. “I want to find who did it and I want to make them pay.” He sucked in a rattling breath, let it back out again. Tried to find his calm. Failed. “I want to make sure Rick didn’t… didn’t die for nothing.”

“I’m sure the police will do something, Kier.” Jem sounded like she was trying to be the voice of reason here. “You know, they’ll search through the evidence… find who did it… make sure he faces justice…” She didn’t really sound like she meant it, though. Kieren shook his head.

“That’s not good enough, okay?” His words were coming in bursts, bursts he wasn’t used to. “I need to…” He came to a realization about himself, a shocking one. “I need to do it myself.”

“Are you suggesting B and E ing into a crime scene and solving this ourselves?” Jem was incredulous, but Kieren looked entirely serious. “Oh my god, you’ve gone completely mental.” That just set Kieren’s jaw even more. “Okay, okay, fine.” She sighed deeply.

“We’re going to need help, in that case.” His jaw was set. He was more determined than she had ever seen him before.

“I’ll assemble a team.” The tone of her voice was half-joking, but really, Jem would do anything to stop her brother from becoming suicidal again.


	2. The "Adventure" Begins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The party arrives at the house, and Kieren can only hope that it goes well.

The next day, Kieren stood outside the house, holding a large, smooth stone in his hand. It was gray, and fit into his palm perfectly. He was totally alone, just him, the creaky wooden house, the stone, and miles and miles of dusty road.

He had walked to the house. It had taken him all day, and now sweat stained the pits of his beige T-shirt, the one with the fox on the front. Luckily, he’d shrugged one of Rick’s old camo jackets on over top, so no one would be able to tell he was sweating like a pig.

Kieren could hear the rattling of an engine in the distance, and knew it was Jem. He didn’t turn around, though, just looked at the stark house with the yellow crime tape still flapping at the doors, broken loose thanks to god knows what.

The rumbling of the engine came to a stop and Kieren could hear doors opening and slamming shut. Finally, he turned around, to look upon the group that Jem had collected. He found himself a little surprised at who was there.

For one, there was Gary Kendal. Kieren hated Gary, and Gary hated Kieren. Why was Gary even there? Probably because he wanted to get into Jem’s pants. Kieren wasn’t going to stand for that, but it sure would be nice to have his help, anyway.

Next down the line was Philip Wilson, who Kieren didn’t really know all that well or associate with willingly. Philip…he had heart, Kieren could admit, but he was kind of wimpy and probably only there because of the next person down the line.

There she was, Amy Dyer, Philip’s girlfriend, Kieren’s one time crush, and the most airy girl in Roarton. He didn’t mean that in a mean way, she just was. She was like a flower on the wind, bewitching and beautiful, without a care in the world. But, the truth was, she was tough as nails, and not afraid to get her hands dirty, and Kieren was glad to have her there.

The last person Jem had brought…Kieren had to look up for this one. Simon Monroe, whose stare was piercing and whose ideals were strong. There was a shaky emotion that rose within Kieren whenever he looked at Simon, one Kieren wasn’t entirely comfortable with. However, Simon was a helpful, placid guy, for the most part, and he would be a great asset in this situation.

Having finished looking over the group Jem had somehow managed to convince to come out to this remote house, he held his hands behind his back, tried to make himself look more professional and intense.

“Now,” he said, “I suppose you’re all wondering why you’ve been brought here this fine evening.” There was a group muttering. Most sounded like they had been promised that Kieren was going to do something stupid. Well, they were going to get their money’s worth tonight. “I guess you have a right to know.” He paused, running his tongue over his lips, even though they weren’t dry. “We’re…we’re breaking in here to investigate the susp-suspicious ci-circumstances of…” He could feel the tears choking his speech, as his breath drew short and the rims of his eyes began to burn. Jem quickly stepped forward, ushering him aside.

“We’re here today to find out exactly what happened to Rick Macy,” she said, sounding way more professional and official than Kieren had managed, though to be fair the guy was grieving. The group murmur got louder.

“Wasn’t that a hate crime, though?” Gary said, folding his arms.

“We believe it was more than that. Something darker, more depraved.” Jem couldn’t find a way to make this sound reasonable. “Look, do you want to break in or not?” The group mumbled amongst itself. There was a general assent.

“Okay, good,” Kieren said, recovering himself. “Now, someone, go try the doorknob.” Philip, ever the pushover, plodded up to the door and tried the handle. Kieren waited in anticipation. Everyone moved a little closer to the door.

“It’s locked,” Philip declared. There were cries of disbelief, and more stepped up to try the knob, see if they couldn’t force the door. Maybe it was just stuck, they thought. Old houses stick all the time. It’s no big deal. It’ll be a cinch to get open. But the more they rattled the door, the more frustrated they got, until it amounted to Gary trying to kick the doorknob off.

This chaos was interrupted by a loud crash. The group as a unit turned toward the origin of the noise. Kieren had, during the commotion, gone over to Simon and handed him the large gray stone. Simon had then proceeded to wind up and throw it through the big glass window in front. Kieren and Simon stood there, in front of the broken window, little shards of glass still tinkling down on the floor inside, waiting expectantly.

“Well,” Kieren finally said, “who wants to go through and unlock the door?”

“I will,” Amy declared almost immediately. She tromped forward, smiling excitedly. As she passed Kieren, she remarked, “This certainly is the most fun break-in I’ve ever been involved in.” That statement was highly perplexing to Kieren. He turned to Simon.

“Was she being serious?” he asked. Simon knew Amy better than Kieren did.

“One never can tell,” Simon replied, watching Amy maneuver herself lightly through the window. If she cut herself on the glass, she didn’t leave any indication as such. No flinching or anything. Just a quick slide through, and then a moment later the battered door swung open and there she stood, looking very pleased with herself.

“Well, come on in,” she said, smiling vacantly. The group stood there, still somewhat out of it, for a moment, before shuffling into the house. Kieren and Simon brought up the rear, Kieren glancing out the door one last time before shutting it, leaving them in the dimly lit entry hall, huddled in a bunch, with no idea what they were going to do next.

There was a silence that stretched out among the members of the group, as silence was wont to do in a group where not everyone liked or knew each other. Kieren shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot, looking around the group. He didn’t really know what to say. He wasn’t a natural leader or anything, he just wanted to find out what happened here.

“Alright,” he finally said, though his attempts now to sound tough and leaderly were weak. “Let’s go find the scene of the crime?” His voice wavered a little, until he felt a larger hand on his. Simon, holding him firm and steady.

“Yeah, gang,” Gary said, voice laden with sarcasm as he did an over-exaggerated American accent, “Let’s split up and look for clues.” A bubble of laughter forced its way out of Jem’s throat, even though she knew Gary was being cruel and also referencing an American kids show she had only even seen once. Kieren crumpled a little, like a sad paper ball.

“I don’t think that’s a great idea,” Jem said, trying to bring in the focus. “After all, what if whoever did in Rick—” A heartwrenching sob from Kieren here. Jem looked over at him sympathetically before continuing. “—What if he’s still here?” There was a general murmur of assent.

“All right,” Kieren said, regaining some composure. “Let’s just, ah, stick together as a group, and…” His voice wobbled, and before he could continue there was a windy noise, a voice moaning through the rafters, sending chills down everyone’s spine, and then they were plunged into darkness.

Kieren squinted his eyes and, like a wavering light, he could see Rick, just barely, glimmering in the darkness. He choked, eyes bulging, and reached out, grasping. His hands passed through nothing, and Rick looked sad.

“Rick!” Kieren choked out, and then Rick’s ghostly figure flickered out, and the blackness was complete, Kieren’s fingers grasping at nothing. Then something whacked him over the head and Kieren toppled.


	3. Things Get Dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The darkness swells and fades away, but the danger just keeps swelling, and Jem and Kieren, separated from everyone else, might not survive the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops! This Mini Bang ended months ago and I haven't uploaded the last couple chapters, so here, let me put the third one up, fully edited by me this morning, up here now.
> 
> TRIGGER WARNING: Homophobic, fatphobic, and misogynistic slurs ahead, as well as some gross depictions of violence that I tried to leave mostly up to the imagination. Also, some small amount of character death.

Slowly, Kieren’s vision fuzzed back into focus. His hand went to his head, and came away bloody. Jem, he realized, was kneeling over him, looking exceedingly worried about his physical well-being.

“What happened?” he asked, sitting up slowly and rubbing at his head. It ached, and in fact, to the very center of his core he felt a deep, shaky wrongness. Looking around, he realized that they were in a completely different part of the house, one he hadn’t seen before.

“I don’t know,” Jem said, her voice high and worried. “One minute we were in the main room, and now we’re here, and I don’t know how we got here! _I don’t know!_ ” She was freaking out, eyes wide and frantic, whites bared, wet in the corners. He laid a hand on her shoulder, trying to soothe her even though he was even more panicked than she.

“Where is everyone?” he asked. He couldn’t see anyone else aside from the two of them. How could they all have been transported to a different place? A brief glance at his watch told him that barely any time had passed, certainly not enough to move them all to different places.

“W-well, there’s you and me here…but the rest of them, I don’t know. Except…” Her face crumpled in a disgusted sadness, face contorting as she tried to erase an image from her brain, one that might be scarred there permanently.

“Who?” Anything that freaked out Jem that much must be really serious. He gripped her tight, searching her eyes to see what she saw, hoping it would be reflected in her retinas.

“Gary.” She choked his name out in the middle of a sob. He raised his brow in a silent question, and she raised her hand, pointing away, behind her, finger trembling. Kieren woozily forced himself to his feet, using Jem’s shoulder to push himself up, and unsteadily walked toward where she was pointing.

Soon, it became clear to his fuzzy eyesight exactly what she was pointing at. In the corner, Gary lay crumpled. He was cut up, badly, skin gaping in large swathes. He couldn’t see Gary’s face, but he was sure it was too bad for him even to look at. He shuffled closer, morbid curiosity reeling him in toward the tattered form. He knelt down, close to the body, reaching a hand out to check for a pulse, even though some part of him knew that there wasn’t going to be one.

Gary’s body jerked unnaturally, and Kieren hurled himself backwards, fearful of what lay in the unseen. Gary’s form moved in an angular manner, almost reminding Kieren of a spider. His face dragged along on the ground, leaving a messy trail behind. Kieren scooted backwards as fast as he could, propelling himself with his elbows and the heels of his hands.

As Kieren tried to avoid backing himself into a corner, Gary’s head snapped up. His eyes were completely blacked over, and something black and oozing was dripping from his mouth. Kieren let out a surprised shriek and almost fell over. He could feel vomit rising in his throat, and even though Gary was a prick, Kieren couldn’t help but feel bad for him. No one should have to go out like that, sliced up and filled up with something dark.

The darkness started to ooze out of Gary, and turn into a fine black mist. Kieren’s eyes bulged, and he scrambled to get away from the mist, which was pouring out of Gary’s orifices more rapidly. The mist flowed smoothly onward toward him, creeping closer. It latched onto his leg and he cried out. The mist felt like little knives, slicing through his skin. He screamed, tears flooding to his eyes, and squirmed to get away from it. It was then that Jem grabbed him, lifted him by his armpits, and hauled him away. She hauled Kieren away as fast as she could, using all her strength to pull him away from the creeping mist coming from Gary’s body. As they left the body in the dust, it was absorbed by the mist, covering him completely in a whirling black fog, which roiled and shifted, and sent off little probing tendrils, searching for new life to consume.

Once they were outside the room, Jem slammed the door shut. She was heaving sobs and holding onto Kieren for dear life. Kieren clutched at his sister, hoping that she at least would keep him from the darkness.

“Are you okay?” she finally said, chest heaving. She checked him over visually, eyes lingering over the tatters of the skin on his left leg.

“Do you want the honest answer?” Kieren’s voice was trembling, and he could feel the dull vibrating buzz of pain on his leg. Everything was too numb and shocked for him to feel anything truly brutal and painful. Jem was quiet, considering the answer.

“No,” she finally said, shaking her head. “I don’t want to know.”

“I’m fine,” Kieren said, grimacing. There was a dreadful sensation of stabbing pain in him, but the image of Gary, limbs sticking out at wrong angles, blood and black stuff dripping from his body, was too much for him to care. Apparently it was too much for Jem, too, because she had grasped his shoulder and was sobbing, shoulders heaving, taking in hard, rattling breaths, her mouth gaping like a fish. Kieren could feel his shoulder getting wet with snot and tears and moist breath. He didn’t pull away, but in fact, pulled her closer, and held her. Kieren couldn’t cry, not now, because if he did, he might not be able to stop. The fact that Jem could still cry was a gift, and Kieren wasn’t going to take that away from her.

“Jem,” Kieren said, after a while, “we should probably find the others. They could be facing similar dangers.” Kieren was thinking of Simon, of Amy, of Philip. They couldn’t end up like Gary. That was no way to go.

“Yeah,” Jem said. “Let’s go.” She sniffed, wiped away her tears, and stood up. She turned and grasped Kieren’s hand, helping him upwards. Kieren could feel the pain stab into his left leg, but he did his best to ignore it, leaning heavily on Jem to keep his leg from buckling under him. His eyes bit with needles in pain, and he sucked in a quick hiss. He held himself as firm as any shaky-limbed artist teen could while he was in extreme pain.

Kieren limped forward, turning right, Jem supporting him as best she could. The hallway stretched on long into the distance, twisting and narrow, too long to fit inside this tiny decrepit hovel. It was too far, too long, and Kieren’s leg began to waver and fail. They were leaving a trail of blood behind them, the both of them, and making no progress. Kieren slowly became aware that they had passed the same door several times, green and ugly and each time darker than the next.

“Stop,” Kieren said, wearily. Jem staggered to a halt, holding Kieren tightly to her, so that he didn’t topple and fall, like a great unwieldy statue.

“Something’s up here,” Jem said. “That door? I’ve seen it too many times.”

“Yeah,” Kieren responded, voice weak and breathy. He licked his lips and tasted blood. “We need to be doing something differently.” It all seemed so hopeless. In this unnatural house, how could he ever hope to do more than wander until he died, and then Jem died, and somewhere, alone, the rest of them all died, one by one, surrounded by darkness and alone in their pain. Kieren could almost cry at that thought. Almost.

“Maybe I can help you out here.” The voice was faint, but familiar. Kieren turned around slowly, to see again the flickering ghost of Rick Macy. He didn’t understand how Rick was there. His mouth hung open dumbly, as he took in the ghost of Rick Macy, who looked as good as he had in life. He flickered in and out, but he was there, as plain as day, not a scratch on him. Kieren reached out again, voice choking in his throat, making little squeaking noises. How was this possible? It seemed fucking impossible. Also a little insane. Though Kieren was more likely to believe anything post-Gary.

“Don’t touch me,” Rick said gently, smiling. “I might go out again, and then who knows what might happen to you two while I’m trying to get back.” Kieren made more strangled choking noises. Jem looked, if it was possible, even more dumbfounded than Kieren did, the sight of Rick baffling her beyond noise and expression.

“How are you…” Kieren tried to find his words. “How are you here?” He tilted his head, confused, maybe a little bit frightened by the prospect that Rick was here and a ghost. The fact that ghosts existed also was a bit of a sticking point.

“Trust me, Ren, if I knew I would tell you.” Rick shrugged and looked down at himself. “I remember…death, and then suddenly I was here, just sort of existing, in limbo.” He paused, looking Kieren over. “It’s great to see you, Ren.”

“Yeah…” Kieren’s eyes were wet again, but he shoved it down, so that he wouldn’t have to think it, because if he didn’t think it he wouldn’t have to feel it, and it he didn’t feel it then he wouldn’t have to deal with it. That was how it worked.

“So, you can help us?” Jem asked hopefully. She was tired of being lost in the same lonely twisted hallway passing the same green door, and if her brother’s dead boyfriend was going to help them out then so be it. The world of this ramshackle house was impossibly weird, and there seemed to be no escaping that fact. In here, she had accepted, there were ghosts and killer black mist and god knows what else.

“Yes,” Rick said, nodding and smiling. He seemed a lot smoother and calmer now that he was dead. “I can help you. You’ll just need to follow me, and I will lead you to somewhere you can find your friends.” Kieren smiled and reached forward again as if to grab Rick and hold him so he would never go away. He caught himself just in time, afraid that if he touched him Rick would disappear, afraid that if he didn’t Rick would disappear, afraid that whatever choice he made Rick was going to disappear and leave him again.

Rick turned and began to glide away, beckoning, and Kieren and Jem followed as fast as they could in a bizarre, bloody pantomime of a three-legged race. She supported him as best she could, but the going was slow, unfortunately, as Jem was still just a teenager, and didn’t have exactly the highest endurance. She was a trooper, though, and kept them going as well as she could. Rick was considerate, and slowed down, but there was something detached about him now, in that he just barely seemed to care anymore, only emoting in the barest amount. It terrified Kieren in a way he didn’t quite understand, shaking to his very core his understanding of life and death and love. Rick was dead, and the smile he used to give Kieren was gone, the love behind his eyes was gone, and the heart that beat for Kieren was beating no more. It was the worst feeling, knowing that someone he had once loved no longer had any real emotion for him aside from the barest ghostly traces left over from a life barely lived.

It was a lot shorter of a walk than Kieren anticipated before Rick stopped in midair, the ghostly soles of his ghostly shoes hovering about an inch above the ground, as if he wasn’t tall enough already. Kieren and Jem came to a stop behind him.

“I don’t see anyone around here,” Jem said. Kieren was in too much pain now to speak above a dull whisper, so he was saving his voice. Rick turned and smiled at them vacantly.

“They will be here soon,” he declared in an absent voice. “Do not worry.” Kieren took a step toward Rick, reaching up toward his face. Rick floated backwards, but Kieren stepped forwards again.

“Rick,” he said, his eyes burning, “I loved you. You were there for me and I was there for you, when the times got tough. Okay? You have to understand that. You were my first and best love.” There were real tears now, bad ones. He hated them as they fell, but he accepted that they were healthy. “But Rick, I have to let you go, or I’m going to destroy myself.”

“I understand.” Rick nodded, smiling. “I died loving you. I want you to be happy.” He drew close to Kieren, within a hairsbreadth. If Rick was alive, Kieren could have felt his breath on his face.

“I’m going to miss you, and I’m always going to love you,” Kieren said, “but it’s time for you to go.” He leaned forward, closed his eyes, and kissed the ghost of Rick Macy, and felt, for an instant, the feeling of warm, dry lips against his, and could almost fool himself into thinking that Rick Macy was alive and kissing him. Then, the sensation was gone, and Kieren’s eyes fluttered open, to see Rick Macy flicker out of his sight. He let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding in, and felt his face stretch into a small smile, even as he mourned Rick Macy’s passing. Rick Macy, who he loved best, most, and first. Would there ever be another like Rick Macy? Kieren didn’t know, but he had his whole life ahead of him. That is, presuming that he made it out of this hell house.

“Kieren!” A voice exclaimed from behind him, down the hall. Kieren spun around as best as he was able to see Simon, walking down the hall, shirtless and covered in blood that didn’t appear to be his own.

“Simon.” Kieren’s voice crackled and failed, but Simon seemed to hear him. Simon looked worried and scared.

“Come with me,” he called. Jem shot him a brief thumbs up before ducking her shoulder under Kieren’s arm and helping him walk forward and catch up with Simon. Kieren’s limp was even more exaggerated now.

“What happened to you?” Simon asked, eyes crinkling in a concerned manner. “Are you alright? Your leg…”

“Well, uh…” Kieren’s voice grated out of his throat like two stones grinding together. He sounded like a fifty-year old chain smoker. “Gary died, and some creepy black mist came out of him and tried to kill me.” Simon nodded, as if that sounded normal compared to what he had been through.

“Okay,” Simon said. “I’m going to need you to come with me, and help me with Amy.” He looked a little more panicked now, which looked unusual on his normally calm face. “She’s hurt very badly, and Philip is nowhere to be found, and I just need your help, okay?” His voice got very fast and loud as he talked more.

“Let’s go, then,” Jem said, urgently. “No one else should have to die today.” She choked a little on those words. “But, Simon, I can’t carry Kier any longer.” Simon nodded.

“Then I’ll carry him.” With those words, Simon scooped Kieren up into his arms. Kieren didn’t even make a sound to protest. He just shifted slightly in Simon’s arms to find a less painful position to lie in.

The walking was much faster going this time, since a teenager wasn’t having to boost another teenager down a long hallway. The ride was smooth, and soon they were in another room. Amy was curled up in the middle of the floor, in a pool of her own blood, wound tied off by Simon’s mystery missing T-shirt. Simon set Kieren down on the floor, away from the gradually pool of blood.

“I need your help finding Philip and getting her out of here,” he said. “She needs medical attention, but when we last saw Philip he was in a significant amount of pain.” Jem nodded, and Kieren signified he had heard with a low moan of pain from the floor.

“I think the easiest thing to do would be—” she began, but she was cut off by that same low moaning voice they had heard so long ago, and yet so near in the past. The lights flickered.

“Shit,” Kieren said, rolling over on the floor. He wasn’t looking forward to the darkness again, especially if he had to find everyone again in his current pain position. If he had to do that, he might just lie down on the floor and wait for death and/or Gary’s corpse to find him. Well, no, he wouldn’t, because he was who he was and he would always love Rick a little bit and need to avenge him a lot, but god did he just want to lie there and die.

“I agree,” Amy said quietly from where she lay on the floor. “Why don’t we all link hands or something, so we don’t lose each other this time?” She waved one pale hand in the air. She looked like death. Her veins were blue and eye-poppingly visible through her translucent skin, and Kieren couldn’t stand it that she had survived leukemia against all of the odds only to die here in a shitty old house.

“That’s a good idea, Amy!” Simon exclaimed, grabbing her hand. Amy reached out for Kieren’s hand and he took it, and Jem completed the circle. They crouched, waiting for the darkness to come, and when it did, it swept over them wildly, and they didn’t let go. Each of them gripped tight to each other’s hands and squeezed their eyes tight shut and didn’t let go. Kieren thought he could feel Rick with him, somehow, making sure they stayed together, all of them.

Then, like a snap, the darkness was gone, and they opened their eyes to see a room lit all in red. The bare concrete floor they now crouched or laid upon in various states of injury was cracked and stressed. Kieren could see, across the room from them, a dark robed figure, holding Philip over a deep bowl, a knife pressed against his neck. Philip’s trousers were dark with piss, and he was already cut in several places. There was a thin red line on his neck where the knife rested. Kieren struggled to his feet, following the suit of Simon and Jem, who had already gotten to their feet without his notice. Amy was last up, looking wan, and trembling and swaying as if she might fall.

“Let him go, asshole!” Amy yelled with all the strength she could muster. The dark figure laughed in a darkly sinister voice that was somehow familiar.

“Why don’t you make me, you little bitch?” the figure sneered, and Kieren figured out who exactly was under that hood.

“What the fuck, Gary?” he exclaimed, marching forward. He would have made it to him and punched him for all it was worth if not for the fact that the knife was right up against Philip’s neck. The figure laughed again and swept the hood off his head. It was Gary under there all right, and he was covered in blood, and smiling in a way that looked quite deranged.

“Well I had to kill the little fag, didn’t I?” he said gleefully. “And then when you all decided to start snooping around… well, we couldn’t have that, could we?” He swayed, drawing little red lines on Philip’s throat with the knife. “So I found this neat little book that taught me all about how to trap you all in this house, _forever._ ” His eyes were wide, shining with devilish glee.

“I fucking mourned you, Gary!” Jem yelled, pointing her finger accusingly. “Put the knife down right now, you fucking nutter!” Gary looked mildly offended.

“Nah. I think I’ll just kill this fat son of a whore.” And then he swept his knife cleanly across Philip’s throat, and Philip let out a gasping scream before collapsing forward onto the bowl.

“You bastard!” With that, Amy staggered forward, at an intimidating rate, closing in on Gary. “I’m going to kill you!” Gary beckoned her forward, looking excited.

Simon looked between Amy and Kieren, as if weighing options. Finally, he turned to Kieren.

“Look, if we don’t make it out of this tonight…” Simon rubbed his palms together, sucking in a breath and then letting it out again. “I…” Kieren didn’t let him keep making his dumb cliché speech, and just grabbed him by the collar, dragged him down, and kissed him. It felt good. Really good. It would have felt better if Kieren wasn’t bleeding out, but hey, situational problems aside, it was probably the best kiss he had ever had, kind of awkward and rattly like every first kiss was meant to be, teeth clacking, neither quite sure what they were doing yet. It didn’t matter, just for an instant, that they were both about to die, because as long as Simon’s lips were on Kieren’s, he felt safe. Kieren pulled away, sucking back in the breaths he had lost to Simon, and felt the reality of the situation creep over him again.

“I think you’re pretty grand too, Simon, now let’s save the night.” Kieren then kissed again, quickly, just for good measure, and also because it made the painful, hollow, empty sensation inside him go away for a little while, and they went about their planning.

Jem ran right at Gary, launching herself at him like a furious little torpedo, and landed on him, punching him in the face over and over until he was bloody in the nose and teeth. His head hit the floor, seemingly out of it, until suddenly his knife hand rose again and he plunged the knife into her, cutting her up. Jem, gasping with pain, fell away from Gary. Amy got up there, finally, but Gary grabbed her by her hair, pulling her head back to expose her neck.

“I think I’ll add your blood to this curse,” he hissed, grinning foully and tracing a line on her neck with his knife. Amy grunted and kneed him in the groin, causing him to nick her chin a little when he jolted in pain. She pinned him to the wall and repeatedly kneed him in the dick, eliciting a new and interesting noise each time.

“Stop! Doing! Black! Magic! You! Fuck!” she yelled, punctuating each word with a knee to the groin. “Magic! Is! Not! Supposed! To! Be! Real!” She finished it with a big one, and continued holding him in place. “Now, Kier!” From behind Amy came a large splash of gasoline over the two of them, followed by a second, bigger than the first. Amy turned to see Kieren, holding an empty container of gasoline and a lighter. Kieren flicked the lighter on. Amy met Kieren in the eyes, and nodded.

“Do it,” she said. “I’m going to die anyway. This kind of wound doesn’t fix.” She smiled bravely. “It’s my time.” She hesitated for a second, and then added, “At my funeral, tell everyone I was awesome.” Kieren closed his eyes and threw the lighter. It flew wide, but Amy caught it, and lit Gary aflame. Unfortunately, like she knew it would happen, it was too late for her to get away, and the flames spread to her next. She took one last look at them, and her soundless lips said “Run.” So they did, out of what was apparently a mostly-empty basement, but not without its gasoline. They ran, and ran, and ran, but once again, were stuck with nowhere to turn to. All the hallways and rooms repeated back on each other. It was a mess.

Rick appeared again, very faint and flickering. Kieren’s eyes lit up with the hope that perhaps they could be saved.

“I can only take one,” he said, voice sounding like it was coming over a staticky radio.

“Take Kieren,” Simon said, immediately, pushing Kieren forward.

“No! Take Jem,” Kieren said. “Simon and I will find our own way out of here.” Jem, who had been stabbed a lot, gave the two of them a very long look of exasperation and pain, before following after the ghost. Once Jem was out of sight, Kieren turned to Simon.

“I guess it’s just you and me, then,” Kieren said.

“How are we going to get out of this one?” Simon wondered aloud, looking around the house, which was starting to smell like smoke.

“Well, I don’t know, but in case we don’t…” He grabbed Simon and kissed him one more time. He felt appropriately cheesy now, and their kisses were less clashy and terrible. If they died tonight it would all be a waste. “Now, let’s try every alternative. There _has_ to be a way out of here.”


End file.
